


Life

by AkakoOni



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkakoOni/pseuds/AkakoOni
Summary: My thoughts of today, 20/12/2020.First time to do something like this.





	Life

It was always like this. Always able to keep in everything that should be let out, only to let the turmoil out at the wrong time for such a little thing.

This time it was because her mother could not time manage what to cook and blamed it on her for not cooking earlier. Her mother expected her to cook at 7, on the only day she would be able to sleep in. 

It was unfair, she was blamed because of her mother's mistakes. She had worked 5 days that week with no rest, and she just cracked. She was never one to raise her voice but her voice rose to that of a yell.

Her mother is as incompetent as one could get. Only a day prior her Nan had been hospitalised due to mini strokes. Today was supposed to be a Christmas lunch with the family, that turned downhill.

Everyone is travelling kilometres to see Nan at the hospital, and not many people would be attending the lunch.

With her Father's support for her mother, she finds seclusion in her room. She cried and cried with no sound to be made. Its not like anyone would care if she was crying, they would be mocking her for wanting attention.

It feels unfair. She hates it. She hates her life. She wished that she had died.

There are thoughts about cutting herself for a second time. She knows that the repercussion would be to go to the blade for help with no worth to it.

She wants to drown all of her alcohol she has starting from the Tequila and ending with the Gin. But if she starts now, she knows she will be relying on it for year to come.

There is nothing that she can do without sow further in life. All she can do is cry herself in the mirror until she calms down which are minutes too long. Self-loath appears.

There is no such thing as a pretty cry. The faces and eyes become red and puffy, wrinkles form, the nose becomes blocked and starts to run. What is so pretty about that?

In the mirror all she could see are imperfections. Red hair, feckless, big nose, pimples, crocked teeth. 

Who would ever love her? Want her?

She has always been good at masking her emotions. Pretended she was fine when she was never. Pretened that she cared when she never. Pretended she was surprised when she was never.

She has friends, but she never feels able to talk to them. She doesn't want to burden them with her troubles that seem so insignificant to theirs. She is supposed to be the strong one in her group. The pillar to keep them happy which she does not want to ruin.

She has always been good at telling lies. Most of what she says are lies. No one can tell what she really is like, she is used to faking herself so much that she does not know herself.

Her feelings have always been a void. The void, that is what she calls the emptiness in her guts. What does it feel like to be happy, to smile truthfully? She does not know.

All she acts upon are social ques for what should happen in situations that deem appropriate. But it is too hard to act like you are able to comfort someone when you don't know how to interact with such emotions and it shows that she is faking.

No-one had ever commented on it, so why would they start now?

She spurns herself yet she can never show it, because if she does she has to act as if she doesn't which is more tolling. Altruistic is what people call her. She never means to be, she's selfish, she buys and only thinks of herself.

But people look at her, and looks at the stuff, and she fakes it. Gives them something with words of, I brought them for you. Lies. Lies. Lies.

Her world is intertwined in a web of lies. Lies that she continues everyday that just gets bigger and bigger. She can't stop it. Once the lies are gone what else can she relie on?

She does not know herself. What are her dreams? What are her aspirations? What does she like? What does she want to be? What? What? What?

She has never known what the feeling of stress is. School was boring, not stressful. Work is work, not stressful. Paying bills is tedious, not stressful. 

Maybe she has felt it? Maybe she hid it away like everything else until is bursts with a frayed string? A lot of concepts don't seem to apply to her. She is not and empathic nor symphatic person.

Recently she has been eating little. For someone who does not care, she cares about having a small stomach. It's one of the only things she can do without repercussions.

She is calm now. Sitting in her chair, in her room. She can hear the laughter from outside but does not want to join in. She can feel the pain of her empty stomach but does not receive it. She is tired, not being able to sleep on but she does not close her eyes.

She wonders how far her body can take before it breaks, but does not act upon it. She has work tomorrow.

She will only wish herself death in her dreams. She has thoughts of how to die a death with no sorrow. And that death will take years to do as stings of people need to be deattached so she will be forgotten.

So she will be with peace of mind that she has died with no-one knowing. 

After all, she hates attention.


End file.
